About a week before my dad passed, we were having one of our usual conversations on FaceTime, and I was showing him around our house in California. We were talking about them coming to visit and spending time with us out here in the sun. I walked him through the main floor, the kitchen, the living room, and the family room with the open floor plan. He nodded and approved as we chatted about their plans to visit. The boys, his beloved grandsons, wanted to show him their trampoline in the backyard, so I turned the camera and walked outside to show him the lay of the land while the boys showed off their flips and turns as they bounced fearlessly into the sky.
“Your grass is dead!” he sharply exclaimed as I panned the camera across the yard.
“I know, I know, I know.” I quickly retorted, knowing he was disappointed.
“The front yard is green and plush,” I shot back, hoping to reclaim his approval.
“I know that’s not how I taught you to care for the yard.” His words pierced through the phone.
“The yard will be right when you get here.” I pathetically reassured him.
He shrugged, chuckled, and we continued the conversation.
As soon as we got off the phone, I hurried to the garage to find the grass seed and set up the watering system. Daddy was coming, and I needed to get the lawn together for his arrival. I sprinkled the seed and set the timer to water the lawn daily because Daddy was coming. I pruned the edges and pulled the weeds because Daddy was coming. I wanted Daddy to be proud.
My dad never did get to see my lawn in person. The sad thing is I waited until I knew he was coming to prepare it. Rather than taking the time to maintain and prepare, nourish, and grow the lawn carefully, I neglected it. And while he never saw it in person, his experience from a distance through technology was nothing to smile about.
I think that’s how we too often treat our relationship with our heavenly Father. We ignore the things He loves and appreciates until he’s nearby. We save our praise and adoration for the sanctuary, neglecting the fact that he’s with us always. We shy away from daily communication because he’ll be there when we get back. We put off what we could easily maintain to do other things.
I tried to tell my dad that my front yard looked good, but let’s be honest, he wasn’t hearing it. Isn’t that just like us? Keeping the outside good looking for everyone else to see while the backyard, the inside is a mess? It’s easy to hide behind fences and walls, smiles, makeup, filters, and flashy reels, but our Father sees through it all.
My commitment is to keep my grass green. Water, fertilize, and stay ready because my Father can show up anytime, and I want to be ready.
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